Esteemed Malevolence

XXVIII: Speculations

Sweeney had kept his word.

And Mrs Lovett had kept her place in the parlour, not bothering to move a muscle.

As she'd rolled onto her other side, he'd slung his usual attire on, knowing that for every second their establishments were closed, another suspicion would arise.

Once he was fully clothed, he ran back down the stairs to her shop. He expected to see her fully dressed and present by the counter...

But when he turned the corner and she was nowhere to be seen, he frowned.

He briefly glanced over the place, the usually clear glass windows tainted a dark brown from the silhouettes that were stood on the other side of them. When he looked closer, he realised there was a gathering of angry looking faces pressed against the windows, studying him spitefully.

The man was already an unsettled person.

But it was safe to say he was even more uncomfortable now, with all those speculating eyes glaring at him mercilessly.

"Ain't got the guts ta face us, 'as she?!" Sweeney heard one man yell as the front row of scruffy individuals hammered their flat, oil-stained palms on the glass windows over-zealously.

He knew he'd have to get rid of them somehow. Considering Eleanor was still nowhere to be seen, it was clear he was going to have to shoo them off before opening up. He would end up throwing a fit if she didn't arrive soon - what the hell was taking her so long?

He exhaled deeply, but didn't let his true disgust for the ugly scene of Londoners break his useful persona of talented barber. He approached the front doors, his hands clenching into fists by his sides.

It wasn't just that the people outside were no better than the specks of dust below his feet...

It was the way they were all peering at him with suspicion, presumably breathing out more vulgarities about the woman he'd only just left in the parlour.

The woman he'd spent the night with.

The woman he'd woken up with.

He adorned his cloak of sincerity as he quickly unlocked the door, holding in a curse when the hoard of customers outside fired off with inquisitive murmurs.

"Wot's he doin' openin' up?" a woman (who was on the larger side, and known for her obnoxious gossip) loudly questioned, her gathering of nosy followers whispering around her left, right and centre. The woman had happened to have said this as soon as he'd stepped outside. The first row of people shuffled back in a panicked manner, like the man was some sort of unexpected deterrent.

"Musta been at it all night like the night flower she is!" a man shouted, earning a few gasps from the gossipers stood in front of him - from the black smudges on his unshaven face, it was clear that he was a factory worker, in one form or another.

It was unlikely that the man would be missed...

"Say that again, sir, and Mrs Lovett shan't serve you." the barber replied sternly, appearing to look oblivious to the insult directed towards his lover. The sudden authority he had over the crowd before him was not something he was used to, but he handled it tremendously well.

"Who you's kiddin' mate? That whore'll serve anyone!"

The crowd of starving customers erupted into snide laughter - there wasn't a mirthless face to be seen, even the quieter customers of the lot had silly grins on their nauseating faces.

If that man habitually humiliated people, then today was his unlucky day...

Because Eleanor Lovett and Sweeney Todd were some of the worst people he could have ever set out to ridicule...

From the amusement clamouring from person to person and slowly rising in volume, Sweeney knew that the joke had gone on for far too long.

He wanted to put down every single pest that was stood before him, fearlessly cackling at him, mocking him - he wanted to gauge out their dozy rat eyes and slit every pale neck open until the cobbles of Fleet Street were decorated with puddles of crimson.

"Oh, you are more than partly right there, sir." he coaxed, eyeing up the brave man in the small crowd as he clenched his teeth into an obliging grin. "Per'aps so right that you've earned yourself a shave, completely free of charge."

The dopey customers cheered and applauded in approval, dispersing around the courageous individual as he raised up both hands to celebrate what he probably deemed a personal victory.

"Yet..." Sweeney continued in monotone, loud enough to alert everyone in order to stop them from continuing their cheerful praise.

"... in Mrs Lovett's defence, she has fallen ill. If she picks up over the next few 'ours, I'm sure you'll all be able to get your 'ands on one of 'er famous pies once she opens tonight." he lied meticulously, calculating eyes studying each of the grimy, stained faces staring intently back at him. "She 'ad a terrible fright last night - "

"Oh, say no more, sir!" another random man's voice piped up, voice travelling from a row so far back that his face was obscured. "Whole'a London's 'eard news'a the strange occurrence at Judge Turpin's ball. A man like 'im abandonin' summin like that's un'eard of, sir! No wonder it's all the papers are churnin' out!"

"Yeah! Wasn't you there?! Wot did ya see?!" someone else butted in, whispers merging around them like wildfire.

"Someone said it were 'cause one'a the guests 'ad been messin' wi' evil spirits - "

"Na na, I 'eard it were 'cause Turpin 'ad been rejected by 'is pretty little ward!"

"S'more likely that ol' Beadle Bamford 'as overstepped a mark - "

"As much as the lot of you and your conspiracies are fascinating," Sweeney said in mirthless monotone, internally perplexed just as much as they were. "I shan't repeat myself again. We will not be open until - "

"We?" the ever-so brave saviour of the crowd chimed in once more. "Who's this 'we'?"

The customers murmured and gossiped amongst themselves, clearly what he'd just said would only fuel their elaborate rumours... rumours that had probably hit the nail on the head.

"I said, Mrs Lovett will not be openin' until evenin' due to 'er shock." he ground out through his persuasive grin. "In the meantime, sir, how about you come up for the quick trim you have most assuredly earned?"

There was nothing better than a quick smile... and a satisfying shave.

Though it was clear that it was the barber's satisfaction that this next shave would cater to...